Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
E wan was terribly weary, and the whole of his upper chest hurt when he moved, especially his arms and shoulders. He found that out when he insisted on taking the reins. The painkilling potion Ella had made him drink had not yet started working, and the wound still throbbed every time the horse took a step. He really did fancy the idea of spending the night on a feather mattress instead of the hard cot. But that was not the main reason he had decided to stay at the Thatcher’s Arms Inn that night.
Before he carried out his plan to penetrate Galbraith castle and attack from within, he wanted to savor spending a little more time alone with Annie, in a place where she did not need her masculine disguise.
He was relieved when they reached the inn at last and left their horses with the same young lad as they had the time before. When they went inside to the bar, Ewan did his best to hide the fact that he was injured by doing up his coat and standing tall, so as not to attract attention. When the landlord went to speak to them, he confirmed there was a selection of rooms available for travelers to rent by the night.
“I want the best one,” Ewan said and duly paid for a “very comfortable” double for him and his mate. He ordered ale and wine and some supper to be sent up to them as soon as possible and paid for that too. “Let’s go upstairs, so we can rest,” he said to Annie, who nodded.
A maid appeared and showed them up the stairs to the first floor. They followed her up the wooden staircase and into a large, well-appointed chamber. Lanterns had been lit and a crackling fire was picking up in the grate, their light casting a warm glow over the room. Ewan looked around, nodding his approval at the lush Turkey carpet beneath their feet, the velvet drapes, the chairs with plump cushions set before the fireplace and the large, four-poster bed that dominated the room.
“This is luxury, eh, Annie? After what we’ve been used tae these last few weeks,” he said after the maid had gone and the door was shut.
“Aye, ’tis like a dream,” Annie agreed, shedding her boots and jacket and going over to test the bed. “Och, a goose feather mattress! It feels like sittin’ on a cloud. Ye should come and lie down and rest yersel’,” she told him, patting the coverlet.
He took off his weapon belt and coat and hung them next to her jacket, then went and sat down next to her on the bed. “Aye, I will if ye’ll help me off with me boots. I havenae even got the strength fer that.”
“Aye, of course. Let me help ye.” She got up and pulled the high-top boots off one by one, then set them neatly aside.
“Ach, that feels better,” Ewan sighed happily, getting onto the bed properly. “Would ye mind plumping the pillows for me?” he asked Annie. “I think I’ll be more comfortable that way. Mind ye, I think that potion the healer gave me is startin’ tae work. The pain’s really startin’ tae ease off now.”
“That’s grand news,” Annie said brightly as she hastened to do as he asked and then helped him to ease himself back against the pillows until he felt comfortable. He settled back and looked at her as she continued to fuss with the pillows, moved by her seemingly genuine concern for him.
Surely, she must care fer me a wee bit.
With everything that had happened since the night before, he had almost forgotten the kiss. But now the memory came flooding back to him full force. His heart yearned to take her in his arms and kiss her until they were both dizzy, but his instincts told him to go slowly. She had bolted after she had kissed him. She might do it again if he tried anything, so he held himself back.
And then there was the small matter of his stitches. No sudden movements, Ella had said, lest they rip. That was slightly worrying, but the pain and discomfort were slowly receding, thanks to the foul-tasting potion she had given him. He was doing so much better and being locked away from reality with Annie, alone in this luxurious setting, was lending everything a dreamlike quality. Something in the potion, he supposed, was making him feel incredibly relaxed.
“Annie, I wantae thank ye fer all ye’ve done tae help me today. Ye’ve really been takin’ good care of me, and I want ye tae ken how much I appreciate it.”
She was sitting on the edge of the bed sideways, leaning on her arm, looking straight at him—dressed as Harris. Her cheeks turned slightly pink, as though his words embarrassed her. Unsmiling, she looked down at her hands, her twisting fingers betraying her nervousness. “When I saw ye hurt like that…” Her voice trailed off, but when she met his eyes, hers showed him she had feared for his life. “I tried tae kill ye once, Ewan. But now, now I want ye tae live.”
Earnestness shone from her. She was telling him the truth. She wanted him to live, she cared for him! His heart soared as he felt the connection between them tighten. He put his hand on hers and squeezed it, feeling incredibly close to her, forgetting he did not know her real name.
“Thank ye, that means a lot.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him. “Ye dinnae have tae be Harris here. Ye can take off the disguise and be yersel’ fer a while.”
She looked surprised. Then she said, “Aye, I hadnae thought of it, but now ye mention it, it’ll be a relief tae get out of these clothes fer a wee while. But ye ordered dinner and ale. They should be here soon. I’ll turn intae the real me after they’ve arrived.”
“Sensible,” he had to agree. “We can lock the door and have some peace. ’Twill be very nice tae put our troubles aside fer a few hours, eh?”
She sighed and smiled at the same time. “Aye, ‘twill.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Dinner and drinks had arrived, brought up by two maids on trays. Annie let them in and had them put the trays on a small table near the bed before thanking them and seeing them out. Ewan smiled when he heard the key turn in the lock.
She went to the table and poured him a tankard of ale and a glass of red wine for herself, then carried them to the bed. She placed hers on the nightstand and handed the ale to Ewan.
“Yer ale, m’laird,” she said teasingly. He grinned as he took it from her and drank deeply of the refreshing amber liquid.
“By God that’s good,” he said appreciatively, wiping his lips with the back of his shirt sleeve. “I feel like a king.”
“I think ye mean a laird,” Annie said, bringing over Ewan’s dinner on a tray, a meat pie served with turnips, greens, and lashings of thick gravy. “Och, it smells so good, me mouth’s waterin’ already, and I havenae even taken a bite.”
She rested the tray on the nightstand while she helped him sit up a little. When he was comfortable, she laid the tray across his lap so he could eat. Fetching her own tray, she placed it on a flat part of the coverlet and then stepped back.
Ewan stared with his knife poised in midair as she proceeded to perform a strip-tease in front of him. The cap came off first, and she tossed it away, saying with a sigh, “Och, what a relief to have that off!” As always, he was entranced by the sight of her golden curls springing free and the long, thick plait falling down over her shoulder. She undid the plait and let the shining river tumble down to her waist, shaking it out and running her fingers through it.
Next, off came the padded jerkin he had given her, then the boots and stockings and trousers. She folded each item and placed it on a chair, the boots paired off neatly beneath. Off came the oversized homespun shirt.
“Well, goodbye, Harris, hello, Annie,” he murmured, his groin twitching to see her in nothing but her shift as she came to sit on the bed. She sat cross-legged, the candlelight behind her outlining every curve of her body through the filmy material in a very distracting way. Thankfully, she put the tray across her knees.
“This looks so good,” she remarked, sipping at her wine before she tucked into her food. “I’m hungry. What about ye? Ye must eat even if ye dinnae feel like it, tae keep yer strength up,” she told him, cutting into the pie.
“I think that potion must be quite strong because the pain is wearin’ off. I feel surprisingly good, and I can definitely eat. Though I’m a bit tired,” he told her. In fact, he felt incredibly weary, but he was enjoying her company so much, he did not want to fall asleep. However, he found that the more he ate and drank, the more tired he felt. He ate most of his dinner, but by the time he could eat no more his eyelids had grown so heavy, he could hardly keep them open at times.
I dinnae wantae fall asleep, I wantae stay awake with Annie!
“Ewan, Ewan, are ye awake?” Isla laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned over to look into his face. He appeared to be fast asleep, and when he began snoring gently, she was certain of it. She stood up, looking down on him, her mind whirring. She did not know whether to be disappointed—it had been turning out to be such a wonderful evening—or grateful for the opportunity.
He could sleep fer hours, enough time fer me tae get back tae the castle and warn Gregory about what Ewan’s plannin’, and about Allan too. I may nae even need the flask.
Even while the thought was running through her head, she was picking up her clothes and slipping them on. She gave Ewan one last look, satisfying herself that he would sleep peacefully for a few hours yet, the took her jacket and her boots and opened the door as quietly as she could. She took one step over the threshold.
“Stop right there! Where d’ye think ye’re goin’?”
She froze at the growl which had come from behind her. Her heart sank.
“Get back in here. Ye’re goin’ nowhere unless I say so.” The voice was right in her ear. She jumped out of her skin. He was behind her! She could feel the heat of his body on her skin, his warm breath in her ear when he spoke. Her body began thrumming with a combination of fear and excitement.
She pasted a smile on her face, fighting to keep her composure. “Och, ye’re awake,” she said, turning on her heels to face him, frantically trying to think of a plausible excuse for leaving.
“Where were ye goin’?” He was standing right in front of her now, his bandaged chest inches from her face. She frowned at the bandage in genuine concern but also seeing a chance to deflect his question.
She looked up at him and said, “Ye shouldnae have moved so fast, creepin’ up behind me like that. D’ye nae remember what the healer said? Nay sudden movements or ye could tear yer stitches.”
“Me chest’s fine,” he replied dismissively. “Answer me question. Where were ye goin’?”
“I was, er, I was thirsty, so I thought I’d go down and get some ale.”
The firelight threw dancing shadows across his features, making it a harsh mask of mistrust as he eyed her. “There’s ale over there, on the tray.” He jerked his thumb at it.
“Aye, I ken, but ’tis stale and warm. I wanted some fresh ale.”
“I’m sure ye can make dae until mornin’. Now, come back in here and shut the door.”
Seeing no alternative, she did as he said, but she was frustrated at being robbed of her chance to warn her brother and could not help but let her irritation show. “Ye ken, ye havenae right tae dictate me every move.”
He stared at her, then said sardonically, “I’m sorry, I dinnae think I heard that right. I absolutely have the right tae ken where ye’re goin’ and who yere seein’. Technically, ye’re still me captive.”
“But can ye nae just give me a wee bit of freedom? Dae I havetae ask yer permission every time I wantae dae some simple thing, like fetch some ale or visit the privy, fer goodness’ sake?” They were standing toe to toe now, with Isla’s head tilted up to Ewan’s face as he towered above her.
Unexpectedly, his expression suddenly softened. “Annie, ye misunderstand me. I dinnae wish tae control ye, but things bein’ as they are, I wish tae keep ye safe.” Gently, he reached down and cupped her face in his palms, looking deep into her eyes, setting her body tingling. “I care about ye.”
Her breath hitched in her throat at his words. “I care about ye too, Ewan,” she whispered, gazing up at him, meaning every word.